They won't worry you much, 'Toinette. They're frightfully
keen about the country, and will be sure to go out shootin' and snuffin'
round like these town johnnies always do when they get in places like
this.... Well, as Mr. Brellier isn't here I suppose I'd better be making
my way home again. Wish we were married, 'Toinette. There'd be no more of
these everlasting separations then. No more nightmares for you, little
one. Only happiness and joy, and--and heaps of other rippin' things.
Never mind, we'll make it soon, won't we?"
She raised her face suddenly and her eyes met his. There was a haunted
look in them that made him draw closer, his own face anxious.
"What is it, dear?" he said in a low, worried tone.
"Only--Dacre Wynne. Always Dacre Wynne these days," she replied
unsteadily. "Do you know, Nigel, I am a silly girl, I know, but somehow I
dare not think of marriage with you until--everything is finally cleared
up, and his death or disappearance, or whatever the dreadful affair was,
discovered. I feel in some inexplicable way responsible.
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